


Little Tremors

by Sibilant



Series: (Not to Scale) [3]
Category: (500) Days of Summer (2009), Warrior (2011)
Genre: Character Study, Crossover, Established Relationship, Fanfic of Fanfic, Future Fic, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-05
Updated: 2013-02-05
Packaged: 2017-11-28 06:58:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/671581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sibilant/pseuds/Sibilant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They’re not doing anything special, but not every single time has to be. Tom knows that now.</p><p>(Part character study, part smut, part look at the nature of long term relationships, and pure schmoop)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Little Tremors

**Author's Note:**

  * For [smugrobotics](https://archiveofourown.org/users/smugrobotics/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Bodylock (No Tap Outs Here)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/670446) by [smugrobotics](https://archiveofourown.org/users/smugrobotics/pseuds/smugrobotics). 



> smugrobotics declared that Tom Hansen would be wonderful for Tommy Conlon, post- _(500) Days_ and post- _Warrior_. I agreed. This fic was born from that enthusiastic agreement; it's a future fic with an already established relationship between Tom and Tommy. Set after that very excellent coda fic linked up there. Read it, if you haven't already! (Also, _this_ fic now takes top place as the most indulgent thing I've written ;D)

It’s a little tremor that wakes him up.

There were probably other things that pulled him slowly out of sleep – a creak of the bed frame, small tugs on the blanket – but it’s a little tremor vibrating along the mattress that jostles Tom wholly out of sleep, leaving him blinking muzzily at the alarm clock. 3:48AM. _Ugh._

Tom lies curled up on his side, sleep warm and drowsy, waiting to see if whatever it was that woke him up will happen again, when he feels it – and hears it – again. Another tremor and, this time, a hitch in Tommy’s breathing.

Slick, wet noise and the mattress judders.

Tom’s suddenly wide awake. Tommy’s jerking off, he realises, mouth going dry. And he’s trying to be quiet about it. The thought is mind scorching hot for a number of reasons – voyeuristic interest not being the least of them – and Tom holds his breath, waiting for the next sound.

And there’re _lots_ of them, now that he knows what he’s listening for. A faint rasping from the sheets as Tommy digs his heels into the bed, trying to get extra leverage as his hips lift off the mattress. The click in Tommy’s throat as he swallows. A groan that sounds like it starts in Tommy’s chest, quickly stifled.

There’s a long, slowly released gust of breath as Tommy stops. Tom assumes he’s just come – is sorely disappointed he’d missed out on most of it – but after moment, Tommy starts up again, still maintaining that painfully slow pace. Stops again after a few minutes with another controlled sigh. Tom thinks maybe Tommy’s doing it deliberately, indulging in a little edging, until all the pieces click together in his head. Tommy's trying to go slow and stay quiet. Tommy's pausing to check Tom's breathing.

 _Tommy’s trying not to wake him up_.

The thought – and the sudden rush of affection that accompanies it – makes him smile into the pillow, even as his dick starts taking a really active interest in what’s going on.

They haven’t had sex in almost a week. That’s practically unheard of for them. But Brendan, Tess and the girls have come to LA for a visit.

Tommy had refused to hear a thing about them staying in a hotel. Steam rolled over their protestations about how they didn’t want to be an inconvenience. They’d taken Tommy in once, when he’d had nowhere else to go, and Tommy wants to make up for it, even though he knows that Brendan could afford to buy their apartment block twenty times over. Tommy doesn’t enjoy feeling like he owes people, Tom knows. And even though he wants to tell Tommy that isn’t how family works or, at least, it isn’t how family _should_ work – Tom’s sure Brendan would say the same thing – he knows Tommy isn’t likely to listen. He’s stubborn like that.

So Tom had let it slide, and simply driven to Sears and bought extra blankets, plus two air mattresses for the girls, the night before the plane was due to land at LAX. 

The arrangement turns out better than expected – the girls treat it like they're camping, but without the biting insects and surprise downpours. And Brendan seems a little relieved that they don’t have to stay at a hotel – still not entirely comfortable with his wealth – although he and Tess have been making noises about going to one next Monday, because the novelty of camping out in the living room will inevitably wear off for the girls. But they're staying until at least Sunday.

And now, even though it means Tom hasn’t gotten laid in days – because Tommy’s nieces adore Tommy, they want to be around him whenever he’s home from training – Tom thinks it’s worth it, to see Tommy relaxed and happy. He’s always been relaxed around Tom, right from the start – aside from that awkward period where they’d danced around each other, uncertain of each other's exact interest – but it’s good to see him that way with other people. Seeing him like that with family is the best of all.

(Even if the girls weren’t hanging all over Tommy, they probably still wouldn’t be fucking. Because Tom’s loud, and Tommy can be too – once Tom’s brain disconnects and he just starts making noise indiscriminately – and that’s— that’s not something other people need to know.)

It’s not so hard to handle, mostly. Tom’s been busy. He has more responsibilities at the firm now. He has client meetings and site plan sketches to finish; phone calls and e-mails reaching the high double digits to answer. It means he’s out of the apartment by six in the morning and doesn’t get back until after six, most nights. It means he’s usually too exhausted to do much with Tommy anyway, beyond wrapping his arms around that muscled torso and passing out with his face mashed into Tommy’s chest.

But right now, Tommy’s trying to be quiet, he’s trying to be _considerate_ because Tom’s tired, and that – even more than Tommy’s hitching breaths or trembling muscles – makes Tom go completely hard. Hard enough that he wants to flex his hips against the bed a little. But why lie there humping the mattress when Tommy’s _right there_?

So Tom rolls over, pushing himself up as he goes, and slings a leg over Tommy’s hip.

Tries to, anyway.

He’d intended it to be some kind of lithe sexy move. Except it’s pretty dark, and Tommy’s a little further away on the bed than Tom had thought, so what Tom really ends up doing is kicking Tommy hard in the thigh before settling over it, rather than straddling Tommy properly.

Damn.

 _Could be worse,_ he thinks, trying not to laugh. _At least I didn’t knee him in the balls._

Tom squints down at Tommy in the semi-darkness. He can just make out the massive curve of Tommy’s shoulder in the moonlight, where the muscles are bunched up because Tommy’s frozen in surprise. Tom wants to run his hand along those muscles, so he does, still marveling a little at the fact he can; that he’s _allowed_.

“Couldn’t sleep?” he asks lightly, even though the answer’s blatantly obvious. The snort he gets in response says as much. Tom smiles and reaches over to flick the bedside lamp on.

Warm, gold-orange light floods the room, and Tommy squints up at him, one hand raised to keep most of the light out of his eyes. His other hand is still gripping his dick, and Tom takes the opportunity to bat that hand aside as he straddles Tommy’s hips properly. Enjoys the way his legs have to spread wide to do it. Tommy’s big hands settle on his thighs almost immediately and Tom’s breathing speeds up. _Yeah_ , he thinks. They’re not going to last long tonight.

“Didn’t mean to wake you,” Tommy says, in that rasp that Tom’s pretty sure has some sort of direct connection to his cock, “Didn’t want to—”

“Very considerate,” Tom breathes. “Good effort. Didn't work, though.” He rocks down against Tommy through his pyjama bottoms and those big hands tighten.

“I’m never fuckin' inviting Brendan to stay with us again,” Tommy mumbles, and Tom laughs. Tommy hooks his fingers into the waistband of Tom’s pants and yanks. Tom lets him, rises up enough so he can drag them off, but slides away before Tommy’s hands can catch him around the waist.

They’re not going to last long tonight, but that doesn’t mean Tom can’t try stretching it out a little.

He slides down the bed, shoving the blankets aside completely. Arranges himself between Tommy’s legs and licks a stripe up his cock without preamble, then does it again. Tommy tastes of leftover lube, which is gross, but still like Tommy underneath that, which is nice. Tommy says something indistinct, but it’s the _volume_ that gets Tom’s attention.

“ _Shh_ ,” Tom says, grinning. Tommy gives him a wild-eyed look. Then the look softens, and he presses a thumb to one of Tom’s dimples. Tom turns his head to nip lightly at that thumb. Gives it a lick too, because why not?

“You’re being a little shit, y’know that?” Tommy says, his voice lower now.

“Indulge me,” Tom says, to which Tommy replies: “I always seem to.”

That makes Tom grin wider, before he lowers his head and wraps his mouth around the head of Tommy’s cock and swallows down, jacking his fist at the base.

He likes giving head; has always liked it, although he hadn’t done it for years until Tommy came along. He likes the way Tommy immediately grows harder on his tongue. Likes the warm salt taste of his skin, now that Tom’s managed to suck away most of the lube taste (still gross). He likes the sense of power that comes from having Tommy – this beautiful, _powerful_ man – at his mercy. What he likes even more is that Tommy is perfectly comfortable with Tom having that power; doesn’t make any attempt to grab Tom’s head or shove his hips up, like some guys at college had, determined to exert some kind of control over Tom, even though he’d had their dick in his mouth.

And he may have gotten a little loud in his appreciation of that, because Tommy’s suddenly sitting up, hauling Tom back up to lay over him. His left hand comes up to cover Tom’s mouth as he takes both of them in his other hand; tightens his fist and rocks his hips upward, cock sliding against Tom’s in that tight grip.

Tom groans. The sound is clearly audible, despite Tommy’s hand over his mouth.

“ _Shh,_ ” Tommy smirks. Tom bites lightly at his palm, and Tommy laughs quietly. “You’re in a biting mood.”

Tom doesn’t reply with words, just rolls his hips and fucks into Tommy’s fist, breathing sharply through his nose. Tommy takes an equally sharp breath and his eyes darken. He stops talking then.

It becomes all about body sensation – touch, taste and sound (though they’re trying to keep that last one down). Tom worms his own hand between their bodies so he can help press their cocks even closer together, and the friction then is _perfect_. They move together in an easy rhythm, and Tom’s head drops, but Tommy’s hand stays firm over his mouth, trapping Tom’s noises against his palm.

Tommy seems to be having his own difficulties staying quiet, though. Breaths hissing through clenched teeth, and lower, more desperate noises as his hips work against Tom’s – Tom knows it’s because, with both hands occupied, Tommy can’t grab Tom’s hips like he normally would and _grind_. It helps draw it out a little longer, although the increasingly wet slide of their cocks against one another says it’s not going to be _much_ longer.

They’re not making love tonight. They’re just fucking. It’s fuck-me-because-you-know-what-I-like-better-than-anyone-else sex. And that’s fine; that’s _more_ than fine. They’re not doing anything special, but not every single time has to be. Tom knows that now. It took him two failed relationships, but he knows now.

Arousal spikes up from low in his belly, makes him leak over their fists. He shakes Tommy’s hand off his mouth, panting. Leans down to suck and nip at Tommy’s full lower lip before Tommy can push his hand back, and slots their mouths together; puts all the weight of his head behind that kiss. They’re moving hard against one another now – the headboard’s smacking against the wall every now and then and, okay, they should probably calm down a little with that—

Tommy makes an explosive, bitten off noise as his cock hardens further against Tom’s hand, and Tom’s attempt at restraint turns into a harder thrust, one that’s accompanied by the headboard’s solid _thump_ against plaster. Tom breaks the kiss abruptly, drops all his weight onto one forearm so he can clap his free hand over Tommy’s mouth, just as Tommy makes another abruptly cut off noise, followed by a longer moan. His cock throbs in Tom’s hand, against Tom’s cock, and _yeah_ , that’s _good_ —

The sight and sound of Tommy coming – head tipped back, shoulders flexing with his shallow, gasping breaths – and the feel of Tommy’s come leaking out over their hands, sets Tom off almost immediately. He sinks his teeth into the muscle of Tommy’s shoulder, groaning as he comes.

Tom crashes down onto Tommy’s chest as soon as his orgasm’s over, not caring about the mess between their bodies. He’ll take care of it later. Right now, he just wants to lie against Tommy, soak in the pure physicality of him. Tommy’s heartbeat is still hammering, but his breaths are lengthening out, becoming more even – he’s already drifting off to sleep.

Tom snorts. “Romantic,” he mutters.

“Mmm. Yeah. ‘S me, all right,” Tommy mumbles back, eyes still closed.

Tom grins against the ink on Tommy’s chest. Runs his hand along the dark whorls tattooed into Tommy’s arm then traces the line of his collarbone with the tips of his fingers. He traces it over and over, until Tommy drops into sleep completely.

 

\---

 

It’s the morning after, and they’re having a late breakfast with Brendan. Tom doesn’t have anywhere to be and it’s Tommy’s scheduled Saturday off (Tom had threatened to knee him in the balls if he didn’t take at least every third Saturday morning off from training – he wasn’t going to happily settle for only one whole day per week with Tommy). Tess sits on the couch in front of the TV, the girls sprawled more over her than over the couch. 

The volume of the TV is loud enough that when Brendan clears his throat, Tom’s the only one who looks up. Tommy just keeps shoveling egg whites into his mouth like today’s the last day there will be eggs on Earth.

“So,” Brendan says, staring at a particularly interesting corner of the ceiling, “You guys should probably think about getting a house. Or a bigger apartment, at least.”

Tom knows his flush has spread all the way to the tips of his ears, just like he knows Tommy’s only reaction is going to be laughter. Tommy doesn’t disappoint, barely pausing to swallow his mouthful before laughing, long and loud, in his brother’s face while Brendan just keeps staring resolutely at the ceiling. The sound brings the girls running; wanting to find out what Uncle Tommy thinks is so funny. Tess stays on the couch, smiling at Brendan like she knows he’s ballsed up telling them ‘get a bigger place so I don’t ever have to hear you fucking if I come to visit again’ but she loves him anyway. Slowly, Tom’s mouth curves into a grin, although embarrassment still clings to the corners. 

And eventually, Tommy’s stops laughing, although he keeps grinning to maximise Brendan’s discomfort. He hooks a hand onto the back of Tom’s chair and, though he's replying to his brother, it feels like Tommy’s next smile is all for Tom: “Sure, Bren. We’ll think about it.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> As a point of clarification: This was the first story written for what's now been collectively titled the _Pound for Pound (Not to Scale)_ 'verse. However, it's the last story in the 'verse chronologically, so I've placed it last in this series :)


End file.
